


truth (to the people we love)

by Lambourn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Abusive Jesse Manes, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions childhood abuse, Post-Season/Series 01, post-torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 04:28:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lambourn/pseuds/Lambourn
Summary: A while ago I put up a prompt on tumblr, and then decided to fill it. "Long ago, Alex set up a video message to be sent to Michael in case the worst happened. Between his family and DADT, he didn't want Michael to wonder. It’s usually a matter of a weekly log in to keep that message from being sent, but Alex didn’t plan on getting kidnapped by his psycho Dad."
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 86
Kudos: 385





	truth (to the people we love)

Alex knew without opening his eyes that he was in a hospital. Life post-roadside IED had given him more than enough experience in identifying the weight of a pulse-oxygen meter on his finger, the dull heaviness of a dreaded catheter, and the rhythmic massage of the blood clot sleeves on his calf and residual limb. A hospital, as much as he dreaded the place, at least meant he was safe. 

It was a marked improvement from the last however many days he had been held by his father. Time didn’t much register in between the moments of brief clarity before he disassociated under Jesse’s rough treatment. His instructors at SERE had originally noted that the fugue-filled flashbacks kept him resistant to interrogation questions but useless in terms of escape planning. His service jacket quietly made note of his existing trauma and then shuttled him into intel and cyber security to make use of the more attractive genius level test scores.

Alex blinked open his eyes, and swallowed, testing the state of his throat. An explosion of pain brought tears and a cough, ripping carelessly through his chest. They had intubated him at one point. 

“Easy, easy…” Kyle slipped into his view, holding a blue cup and straw. His dark blue scrubs highlighted the pale and tired lines of his skin, his usually causally spiked hair was flat against his head. 

“Tube?” Alex croaked, sucking slowly on the straw.

“Yep, you were intubated. Sorry man, there was no way around it. You were not in good shape when we found you.” Kyle gently set the cup down, and slipped back into the chair at his bedside. 

“Fuck. Least I was unconscious.” There was no way he would have been able to tolerate anyone near his throat without a horse tranquilizer or a blackout. As their investigation in Project Shepherd became more serious, Alex had reluctantly passed on to Kyle a few medical issues outside of the obvious missing leg. Explaining to his childhood bully that he had a history of being choked by his father leaving both physical and psychological damage behind had not been a fun night. 

“I broke a couple rules removing the tube while you were still somewhat sedated, so do me a favor and try to keep your lungs inflated while you’re here. I’m sure you know what this is,” He lifted the spirometer from the tray. “You’re going to use it as directed, understand? Here and at home.”

Alex nodded. “How long?”

“Well you know the benchmarks, stand and use the bathroom, no fever, solid food, and no IV pain meds for 12 hours, and I can get you released.” Kyle gestured to the crutches. “You came in with a concussion, cracked ribs, a stab wound into your abdomen, and you were severely dehydrated. The surgical team repaired the damage to your intestines, so that fun feeling in your side is the drain they left in.”

The fuzzy focus of his brain sharpened slowly at the mention of the IV. “No, I meant how long was I missing? What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday, and we think you were missing for 10 days. My mom got a call from a burner phone that there was a body in the alley next to the Crashdown. And fair warning, she’s going to want to talk to you about what happened and why.”

“10 days… damnit. Felt like it was only a couple of days.”

“You didn’t know?” Kyle leaned in and pulled out his penlight. “The CT scan was clear, but that type of memory loss is not good after a head injury.”

Alex grabbed his hand, and did his best to stare him down. “I’m fine. Really. I need you to get my phone and my laptop to me, though.”

“Alex, even if I wasn’t a doctor, I could tell you that you are not fine. The work can wait.”

“It’s not work, okay? My phone or my laptop, either works. Please Kyle. I promise to do whatever you want without argument.” Ten days out of contact probably meant it was already too late. He thought about deleting the delayed queue more than once since coming back to Roswell. Combat tours were a thing of the past, it was just romanticism to keep it. 

“I’m already bending rules for you. You were listening when I told you about your concussion, right? That means no screen time.”

“I promise not to sue you for malpractice.”

Kyle lifted his hands in surrender, “God you are such a dick. Okay, I will get you your phone and you may have it for 10 minutes, then you need to rest.”

He settled back in the hospital bed, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he next opened his eyes, the moment had clearly stretched into hours. The light in the room seemed dimmer, more valuable time lost. Alex opened his mouth to complain, when the cool plastic case of his phone was pressed into his palm.

“Ten minutes, Alex. Not a minute more,” he warned. “You also have visitors waiting downstairs. Liz, Arturo, Rosa, and um, Maria are all waiting.”

Alex swiped open the phone and held it up for his retinal scan. “Okay. Sounds fine,” he replied automatically as his fingers brought up his private server, moving swiftly to the inbox. It took more concentration and fine motor skills than he had to navigate the small scale on his phone. He should have bargained with Kyle for the laptop.

The inbox was empty. The outbox had a single notification of ‘file sent-Goodbye’.

Fuck.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed. The next obvious solution was to hack the incoming email server and delete it before it could be seen and downloaded. His knowledge of Michael’s state of mind currently meant there was still a chance his ex was too drunk to notice a new email notification.

There was still a chance to salvage some measure of dignity. 

Alex thumbed back to his main screen and patiently entered the details of Michael’s credentials. A sharp stab of pain swept through as his password was still the same, 08*Emporium*08. For all of those desperate words Michael had shouted at him, he was still holding onto that memory.

The inbox looked undisturbed with a number of subject lines spanning notifications about updated aeronautical journals, bill pay reminders for a credit card, the typical spam for sales and deals that crowded everyone’s online presence after a purchase was made with an email address. Finally halfway down, he found his own name in the sent header. 

It had been opened. So much for maintaining any dignity after all.

Clumsy fingers exited the app and turned off the display of the phone. 

“Alex, you need to breathe. What the hell…”

He shoved the phone back toward Kyle, and turned his face away, knowing there was little chance of hiding the tears brimming in his eyes. “Changed my mind, I don’t want to see anyone.”

“Yeah, try again. What was that about?”

“Kyle, I’m tired. You just said my dad had me for 10 days. I need a little time before I see anyone.”

“Yes, and you just said you were fine.”

“Clearly I was wrong.” Alex glared, and then reached for the page to signal a nurse. 

Kyle frowned but then stepped back from the bedside. He picked up his lab coat, and glanced at the IV stand and pain management machine. Gently he pressed the controller into Alex’s hand. “Okay, I’m sorry I won’t push. You’re right, you’ve been through a lot, so I’ll let you rest some more. I’ll tell them to come back tomorrow.”

Alex pressed the button firmly until the machine chirped in compliance. “Okay.” The effects of the demerol swept over him. It numbed the new nagging pain in his side, and smoothed out the squeeze of anxiety in his heart. Slowly he worked on controlling his inhales and exhales, putting into practice his long-held skills in staving off a panic attack. The potent cocktail of medication took effect easing him into needed blank nothingness.

***

The next time the waking world visited him, the room was nearly dark with shut blinds and the quiet hush of footsteps outside his room. He swallowed dryly, his mouth sour with sleep and drugs. Alex pressed his fingers carefully to this throat, holding back the cough reflex out of sheer force of will. 

“Want some water?”

He wasn’t surprised that Michael had snuck into his hospital room. Rules were only suggestions to him on the best of days. As strained as their relationship was in the wake of his dating Maria, something Alex had grieved over but ultimately understood, and the venom-laced alcoholic meltdowns that had Michael declaring he was poison, the connection to every painful memory Michael had, it didn’t change the fact that Alex knew that his disappearance and recovery would bring Michael to him. 

“Sure,” he whispered and leaned closer to the offered straw, letting Michael hold the cup for him. The cool water washed away some of the fogginess of the narcotics. “How’d you get in?”

Michael sat back, returning the cup to the bedside tray. His trademark black hat rested next to the discarded spirometer and hospital meal menu. “Influenced the charge nurse,” he replied, tapping at his forehead.

“God, that’s so wrong. I can’t believe you use that power.”

“Learned a long time ago I don’t have limits when it comes to you, Alex.”

Alex laughed wetly, cursing the new wave of emotion. “Sure you do, what do you call the last three months?”

“Hell.” Michael leaned closer, meeting his eyes. “I was in hell, and I’m sorry. I was trying to keep you out of it.”

A hundred and one responses came to mind but he discarded them all. A lethally honest argument that Michael’s defense was complete bullshit wouldn’t change anything for him. When it came to it, Michael had turned to someone else to go through hell with, and no chivalrous words about protection would change that. “Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“I don’t have anything else to say, Guerin. You say you wanted to protect me. Okay.” Alex reached into the hospital sheets, fumbling for his pain management control. 

“But you don’t believe me.” Michael stated quietly. 

“It was my turn, right? I pushed you away, so you made sure I would stay away by being with my best friend. Then when I tried to just be your friend and help on those nights you were so drunk you were half a minute from pissing yourself, you twisted the knife, reminded me of all the bad memories I was connected to.” Alex pressed the plunger, and waiting for the hit of relief. “I believe you were in hell. Just so you know, I was right there with you.”

“That’s why I’m sorry, Alex.” He lifted his phone, waving it lightly. “I got your message.”

“I figured. I’m sorry. I should have deleted that a long time ago.” Alex blinked slowly, feeling the warm rush from the IV. “Made it before my first trip to Afghanistan. Sentimental to keep it. You almost saw it after my third tour in Iraq. I woke up about a day before it was set to go.” He licked his lower lip, “every ten days it asks me. Yes send, I’m dead. No don’t, might get home and tell you in person. Then I did get home, I did tell you, but nothing changed.”

Michael reached for his hand, gently unwinding it from the medication trigger, calming the repetitive press and release. “You did tell me, I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. I thought you were just trying to get me to leave my mother.”

“Just tryin’ to keep a promise I made to myself. Don’t die without tellin’ you I love you.” He squeezed Michael’s hand gently, closing his eyes to the narcotic swell. “Always have, always will.”

“I know, me too, darlin’.” He brought their joined hands up to his lips, kissing Alex’s knuckles.

“I know you did.”

“No, do, I do. Fuckin’ present tense, Alex. And when you’re less high, I’m going to tell you again until you believe me. If I have to, I’ll make you my own video, okay?” 

Alex smiled slowly, there was little point in arguing and the warm embrace of demerol wasn’t going to last forever. “Okay.”

***

Michael was still licking the wounds from his latest fight with Maria, the intervals of peaceful habitation coming in briefer stretches the longer Alex remained missing. It had started with a prod toward his secrets, toward the weak excuses he delivered regarding the black bandanna wrapped around his left hand, and progressed until they each blamed the other for the new and not improved Alex ‘I’m fine, just busy and didn’t see you called’ Manes. 

Day 10 had finally arrived, and with it, Michael’s hopes that Alex was going to be okay. No one stayed missing for this long and returned in good health, if they returned at all. Whatever meager leads from the mess left of the cabin and the black and white security footage from Alex’s driveway cameras had dried up after a week. 

He had spent most of his time driving and stopping at various gas stations in a 200 mile radius of the cabin, questioning attendants, showing off the freeze-captured images, even dipping into their minds the way Isobel had taught him and came up with nothing. 

With no other rock to turn over, he disappeared to his bunker and booted up his computer. It was time to make another sweep for artifacts and finish his ship. Earth had lost a lot of her charms by the time he turned 13, and now with no hope of his mother and Alex lost, it was time to see if the universe was more merciful to him.

Michael paused, seeing a new email notification pop into the corner of his monitor. From Alex. There was no message in the body, just a simple header that read ‘Goodbye’. He rocked back, rubbing his chest against the tightness, before his attention narrowed in on the corner marking an attachment.

He clicked downloaded the video, and then impatiently waited for the codecs to update to view it. The screen went black, before the frame shook violently once and then steadied, a hand coming into view, followed by Alex. He was dressed in uniform, the backdrop was camel yellow, and wavered as if it wasn’t solid. A tent most likely. 

Alex licked his lower lip nervously and let out a long audible breath. “Hi Michael. I hope you will forgive me for this emo cliche, but if you’re seeing this, that means something went wrong.” He paused, glancing away briefly before returning to meet the camera’s focus. “I didn’t come home to you like I always thought I would. I’ve been over here for about a week, and it’s been a lesson to me in how pointless holding back is. And I’ve been holding back on you, I’ve been holding myself back.”

Michael pressed his hand tightly against his mouth, trying to hold back the stab of shame. Buried in the hurt of being left, time and time again, was the small relief that Alex had always come back. Until their last exchange, when Michael was tapped out of hope in anything, including himself, and turned to someone else. 

“I couldn’t protect you once, and it is the second biggest regret of my life. My first is not telling you that I love you. I made you this video because if I die, I don’t want you to wonder about me, about my feelings. You didn’t imagine it, I was real, and you were real.” Alex blinked rapidly on the video, swallowing hard. “We were so good together, sweetheart. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry that you have to carry this on your own. You’ve already carried enough pain because of me and I’m an asshole for adding to it. This wasn’t in my plan. I wanted to come home, one day, and find you. Hopefully you’re in some fancy lecture hall, impressing people with your big brain, and making coeds fall in love with you.”

The life Alex had wanted for him back then was so far from what he ended up having, it was no wonder he had been angry at Michael for staying in Roswell. 

“I want that for you. And since I’m dead, I guess I can be generous and say, I hope you’re not alone. I hope you find someone who loves you. I hope they love you better than I did. I know they can’t love you more than I do. I was already fucked up before we met, and I think war is just going to make it worse. My shortcomings weren’t your fault. I couldn’t stay because of me, but I shouldn’t have left you behind. I was just a dumb, scared kid and I wanted to be strong for you. You were the best part of my life, and I’m really sorry our story ended like this. But yours is just beginning, so be well, Michael. Love, like I know you can. Goodbye sweetheart.”

Michael didn’t know when the tears started, but the shattering of the bulb above his head startled him into control. He wiped roughly at his face, and swallowed. He needed to find those ship parts. He needed off this godforsaken rock.

A couple hours later, he was deep in a bidding war in an auction for what looked like a piece of a wing. His phone chimed with an alert, letting him know his bid had been surpassed, and there was a new text message. His finger lingered on the auction before switching over to the text. 

Dickhead Doctor: _“They found Alex. He’s hurt but he’s going to be okay. Waiting room, South Building.” _

Michael smiled, and closed out the auction on his phone. The ship could wait another day.


End file.
